


The Devil's Laughter

by pippen2112



Series: Back on Our Bullshit - A Critical Role Modern AU [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Filming, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing, Undernegotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 04:17:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17216831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippen2112/pseuds/pippen2112
Summary: Fjord is tense. And flushed. Caleb doesn't know why, can't fathom any reason why Fjord wouldn't be feeling well.  All through dinner with the Widowgast family, Fjord was his usual charming self. But sometime before dessert, he’d excused himself to the bathroom and come back with a line of tension rippling through his shoulders and his cheeks flushed russet under his blue-green skin.





	The Devil's Laughter

**Author's Note:**

> Critical Role has swallowed my life; it was only a matter of time before fic happened.
> 
> Special thanks to Bunce for helping develop this plot bunny and for encouraging me to finish!
> 
> If I missed any tags, please let me know. I didn't tag for all the mentions in Molly's dirty talk because, well, it's Molly. He's a creative bastard and I didn't want to mislead anyone in the tags.

Fjord is tense. And flushed. Caleb doesn't know why, can't fathom any reason why Fjord wouldn't be feeling well. All through dinner with the Widowgast family, Fjord was his usual charming self. But sometime before dessert he’d excused himself to the bathroom and come back with a line of tension rippling through his shoulders and his cheeks flushed russet under his blue-green skin. 

All Caleb can guess is Fjord and Molly must have quarreled. After all, Molly did keep making sly little comments all through the meal, double entendres and hooded looks and little flicks of his tail between Caleb’s legs to prod at Fjord. He can’t be sure though. Partway through dinner, his mother had asked about his studies, and his older brother had asked him to elaborate on his findings in the archives, and Caleb lost track of time talking about theoretical physics and temporal magic. He’d had to scarf down his dinner when his mother brought out the strudel.

So now, he's sitting in the passenger seat of Fjord's truck, side-dying his partner's hands clenched on the steering wheel and his eyes fixed on the road while Molly lounges in the back seat, humming a diddy under his breath. Really, he knows Fjord will open up in his own time, and they have an hour before they're back to the university. That’s more than enough time for Fjord to have his grump and get it out of his system. Caleb shouldn’t interfere, but he’d very much like to reach across the center console, thread his fingers through Fjord's close cut hair, and scratch his scalp until Fjord lets all this tension sluice off him. 

Molly breaks the silence in the cabin. He leans up between the driver and passenger seats and holds his phone out to Caleb. Before Caleb can furrow his brow and ask what he's doing, Molly says, "For your pleasure, Caleb."

Intrigued, Caleb takes the phone and starts the video. The screen remains black, but he can hear the distant din of accented voices though he can't make it their words. He hears footsteps. The sound of a door opening and clicking shut. Molly's teasing lilt. "Need a hand with that?"

A muffled groan. Quick, quiet footsteps, and the heavy thump of a body hitting a door. A choked off gasp, then the wet sounds of kissing. "Fuck, Molls," comes Fjord's ragged voice, "you know damn well this ain't the place."

Molly chuckles. "Oh, would you prefer the living room then? Or maybe right at the dinner table with every eye in the house on you?"

On the recording, there's a heady groan, a sound Caleb has only ever heard Fjord make in the confines of their apartment. Yes, Molly has a knack for recording their sexual exploits for future use, but Caleb has no memory of this one. Stunned, he blinks from the innocuous black screen to Fjord resolutely watching the road even has his blush darkens to Molly's knowing smirk. "When did this happen?" He asks quickly, arousal already turning his voice to gravel.

"Oh, I can't remember,” Molly says, leaning back and grinning like the devil many people have likened him to. “You were talking about your research. Fjord was making moon eyes at you and had to excuse himself after you kept patting his thigh."

"He was not the only one touchin' my thigh, Mollymauk," Fjord replied, shooting him a glare through the rear view mirror.

Molly blows him a kiss. "Don't interrupt, darling. You've already had your fun."

Fjord doesn't respond, but his glare remains undampened. Caleb nearly reaches over to pat his thigh comfortingly, but apparently that’s what started this. Another groan from the recording cuts through the sound of kissing, low and needy. Cock swelling in his jeans, Caleb turns his focus back to the phone.

For the better part of a minute, he listens to the sound of his partners making out. The screen remains dark, but Caleb can imagine Fjord pinning Molly against the door hard enough to leave fingertip bruises at his hips. Slotting their mouths together, teeth and tongue and desperation dragging sounds of want out of both of them. Caleb's seen them make out countless time before in all states of dress and undress, but this is different. Maybe because they're in his childhood home, coupling while Caleb and his family had been just a few rooms away, completely unaware. 

On the recording, someone gasps. "My, you're eager today," Molly says, his voice teasing and rough with his arousal. "You want to mark me up real good so everyone knows what we disappeared to do?"

Fjord answers with a groan, high and barely muffled. Probably he broke off midway through sucking a hickey into Molly's long lilac throat. "We're guests here, Mol," Fjord says, pleading and half wrecked already. Though truly, he doesn’t sound half convinced of his words. Caleb pressed his thighs together to stop himself squirming in his seat. "We shouldn't be disappearin' off to do anything like this."

"No one's stopping you," Molly says. "If you really wanted to, you'd be out the door and doing laps around the block to stave off your stiffy. But you're pinning me to the wall and rutting against me like an eager little puppy."

"Gods damn," Fjord whimpers, and Caleb can picture him, his entire body curling into Molly's heat, his face buried in Molly’s shoulder, his hips twitching instinctively toward more friction.

Suddenly, the camera moves, the darkness giving way to bright warm light, and yes, that is indisputably the bathroom at his parent’s house, complete with the framed pressed flowers on the walls, the familiar light blue paint, the vaguely dick-shaped water stain on the ceiling that he and his friends snickered at when he was a child. Just down the hall from the dining room, and Caleb hadn't had a clue what mischief his partners had made in his absence.

There's movement as Molly props the camera on one of the shelves near the door, and Caleb can finally see a narrow stripe of Fjord and Molly's embrace. A very poor angle, but then Molly pushes away from the door—one hand at Fjord's hip, the other fisted in his hair. In short order, Fjord’s pinned to the far wall, moaning.

Despite his normally tall stature, Fjord is mostly blocked by Molly’s form. _A pleasing form,_ Caleb thinks. Lean and firm, clad in a billowing pink shirt and sinfully tight pants, gold dangling from his horns. Fjord’s head is pressed to Molly’s shoulder, his hands clinging to Molly’s hips. With a quick smirk to the camera, Molly tugs Fjord back by his hair, baring Fjord’s ruddy cheeks, his squeezed-shut eyes and gaping mouth. Caleb’s throat goes dry. Honestly, Fjord is dangerously pretty on any given day, but with his face tense with restrained pleasure, he is devastating.

Molly's tail swishes back and forth, moving on it's own to skim up the column of Fjords throat. Even on this shitty little phone screen, Caleb can see Fjord shudder, can hear the high, needy noises he bites back. Molly pushes closer to Fjord, slotting one leg between those powerful thighs. Fjord ruts into him, his expression pinching tighter. Another noise rumbles in Fjord’s throat, undoubtedly louder than he intends.

“Careful love," Molly says, "if you keep making all this noise someone's gonna hear. Can't have someone walk in when you're hungry for all the cock you can get. You might just drop to your knees and beg for it."

"Plea—" Fjord groans, long and loud in the empty room; Molly pushes his tail into Fjord’s mouth, holding down his tongue. Forcing his mouth open. Silencing his plea. But Fjord just whines, closing his lips around the tail and sucking needily. Molly gasps, his hips lurching forward and grinding into Fjord. 

"Don’t get me wrong, I think you'd have a lot of fun in that situation—lords know I have--but I have a feeling this lovely little exhibition streak of yours doesn't include our lovely hosts. So suck on that, keep yourself occupied, and think about warming our cocks under the tables in the commissary."

Mid-rut, Fjord looks to Molly, a faint little wrinkle forming between his brows. He pulls away from Molly's tail and asks, "Warming?"

Molly chuckles, cupping his cheek and pulling him close for a surprisingly chaste kiss. When they part, Molly pats Fjord’s cheek and stuffs his tail back into his mouth. "Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about. Not right now, anyway. Just relax and enjoy. Be a good boy, and we'll see if we can coax Caleb into stopping at a rest stop to fuck in the bathroom. See if we can explore this kink of yours a bit further." Caleb can hear the grin in Molly’s voice. “If you’re very lucky, we can see about breaking out that rope you keep in the back of your trunk. You know, the one you think we don’t know about.”

Caleb chokes on his tongue, but that pales in comparison to the noise Fjord lets out, both on the recording and beside him, a wrecked whimper in stereo. Transfixed, Caleb watches the recording as Fjord bucks forward wildly, determinedly. Face flushed with arousal and exertion, Fjord grinds quick and hard before he shudders and sags back against the wall. Exhaustion hangs on him for a few seconds before his shoulders tense once more. The devil’s laughter catching up with him. 

Molly takes half-step back, his tail slipping free of Fjord's mouth, leaving a trail of drool in its wake. "Holy mother…" Molly whispers, moving away so the camera catches a glimpse of the wet spot darkening Fjord's jeans. "Did you just..." He leaves the rest of the question unsaid, but the answer is clear.

Fjord came in his pants, and Caleb can't help his gasp. _Shiesse, that shouldn’t be so attractive._

Yet to raise his head from where its resting against the wall, Fjord says, "Not. A. Word." 

Molly cackles, delight and smugness and arousal all blurring together. "At least we’re not at _your_ parents’ place, so you don’t have to hide that stain from your mom."

Without another word, Molly snatches his phone off the shelf and bolts before Fjord grabs at him, too little too late. The video plays on for a few seconds before it goes still and silence spreads through the cabin once more. For a long time, Caleb just stares at the blank screen, the gears in his head still whirring as his cock pulses needily against his thigh.

Chuckling, Molly leans around the headrest and flicks his tongue against Caleb's ear. "If you need more, the next video is me taking care of myself after. I must say, I didn't think your bed would be quite that comfy."

" _Shiesse_ ," Caleb murmurs under his breath.

"I didn't mean for things to get so out to hand," Fjord mutters, his cheeks bright and ruddy once more. "I'm sorry."

Caleb doesn’t respond. Not immediately, at least. And in the moments of silence, Fjord bites his lower lip anxiously. If they weren’t driving, Caleb would kiss Fjord silly and bite that lip himself. With a steadying breath, Caleb leans across the console and squeezes Fjord’s thigh. “It’s okay, _liebling._ I’m not mad.” Fjord lets out the breath he’d been holding, and Caleb grins. "You can make it up to me.”

"How?"

The corner of his mouth pulls higher, wry and teasing. "Well, I can't speak for Mollymauk, but I'd like to try my hand at making you come in your pants. I could even be amenable to a tryst in a rest stop bathroom if that’s what gets you going."

Fjord’s eyes go wide, blinking away from the road. He turns toward Caleb in disbelief. “You… You want to…” He gestures vaguely toward his groin.

“Ja, very much.”

Molly let's out a low sound of want. "I would absolutely be amenable to seeing that again. I could get a better angle on it at least."

"Gods damn, you two are gonna work me into an early grave."

"Maybe," Caleb says as he reaches up and cups Fjord's cock, thumbing the stiffened stain on his fly. "But what a way to go, ja?"

Fjord groans and hits the gas a little harder, eyes peeled for an exit. Molly starts thumbing through settings on his phone, probably making sure he has sufficient space to record. Caleb gives Fjord’s cock one last squeeze, draws back into the passenger’s seat, and lets him drive. They can’t get there soon enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Questions, comments, and concrit welcome!


End file.
